


Don't Think

by Kate_Shepard



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: A night on the Shadow Broker's ship gives Shepard more than he bargained for.





	Don't Think

The sound of screams brought Shepard jolting awake, reaching for his pistol before his eyes were fully open. Leaping out of bed, he padded quickly on bare feet down the unfamiliar passageway of the Shadow Broker’s ship. He’d pinpointed the location of the screams and the identity of the screamer.

Someone was hurting Feron. Or, as likely, Feron was remembering being hurt. Either way, he was going to put a stop to the anguished sounds. But until he was certain it was a nightmare or memory, he was going to treat it as an attack. He still didn’t trust the Broker’s people. He’d killed too many of them to be completely comfortable here, but he hadn’t left the _Normandy_ except for missions in weeks and he was going stir crazy.

Flattening himself alongside the door, he swiped his hand over the panel. Nothing. The door was locked. He called up his omnitool and swiftly hacked the lock, sliding into the cabin with his pistol in front of him, and sweeping it in a single glance.

Feron was alone. His back bowed up off the bed, his hands pinned palm-up against it, his feet flat on the mattress. The blankets had fallen away, leaving him nude. Shepard went to him, crouching down so that he wouldn’t tower over him, and put a gentle hand on the drell’s colorful shoulder.

“Feron, it’s Shepard. Wake up. You’re safe,” he said.

A blue glow surrounding the drell gave him enough warning to get his barriers up before he was thrown back against the bulkhead. Feron bolted upright, his hand gleaming with dark energy.

“Damn it, Feron, it’s me!” Shepard huffed, trying to catch his breath.

“Shep?” the drell blinked his nictitating membranes at him like a human shaking his head and let his biotics fade. “Goddess of oceans, are you hurt? I’m sorry!”

“I’m fine,” he grunted, getting to his feet.

“What are you doing here?” Feron asked, and Shepard thought he could see the drell’s eyes roaming over him from head to foot, pausing at his groin. Looking down at himself, he realized he’d been running around the Shadow Broker’s ship buck-naked.

With a shrug, he said, “You were screaming.”

He let his gaze travel over the drell, taking him in. The colors that decorated his face continued over his body, a rainbow slashed by stripes of indigo rather than the onyx of Thane’s. Strips of bare skin ringed his wrists and ankles, and more lined one side of his chest. A line of scales over his belly looked misaligned, like he’d been cut open and unevenly resewn. Darker spots on his frill made Shepard think of burns.

“Oh.” Feron’s eyes returned to his and the drell pulled the blankets over himself. “Thanks for waking me. I’m sorry I attacked.”

“It’s alright. I should have anticipated it,” Shepard said, wondering if Feron was ashamed of his body.

The horrors of his captivity were written across his body, but it did nothing to detract from his beauty. In fact, it enhanced it. Those marks were wounds Feron had taken for _him_. He could never repay him for that, never thank him enough or do enough for him. The idea that Feron would try to hide it from him made his heart squeeze.

Feron didn’t meet his eyes. “I envy you sometimes.”

“Why?” Shepard asked, crossing his arms over his chest and rocking back onto his heel out of habit.

The drell swallowed visibly, looking him over before dropping his head. “You can forget.”

“If you need to talk, Feron, we can put some clothes on and go find a drink,” he offered. “I’m sure somebody has something stashed around here.”

Feron shook his head. “No. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to _think_.”

“We could run,” he suggested. “Find the gym. Go check out the latest feeds, see if we can find something entertaining. I’d like to help.”

“Why?” Feron asked. “You barely know me.”

“And you didn’t know me at all when you sacrificed yourself to save me,” he said. “Besides, I enjoy your company and I like what I know of you.”

Feron looked him over again. “There is one thing you could do.”

“Name it. If I can, it’s yours.”

The drell slid the blankets off of himself, leaning back on an elbow and tipping his head back to display his indigo frill. “Me. Help me not think, Shep.”

It took a moment for Shepard to grasp his meaning, but when he did, his eyes widened and he felt himself hardening. Two strides took him to the bed and he bent over the drell, trailing his open mouth over the colorful scales, his tongue outlining the misaligned seam. Feron hissed in a breath, his head falling back and a hand coming to rest lightly on Shepard’s scalp.

He crawled up his body, capturing his full lips and wrapping a hand around the drell’s smooth, scaleless length. Pale, with a bulbous head and thick shaft, the balls tight against the base, it was alien but similar enough that he was fairly confident they would be compatible.

“Are you still thinking?” he murmured against his lips.

“Ohhh, Arashu, no,” Feron sighed, thrusting up into his hand.

His length grew slick against Shepard’s fingers and Shepard glanced down in surprise. “Self-lubricating,” he mused. “Convenient, depending on which way this goes.”

“And you’re not?” Feron asked, stroking him and circling his thumb around Shepard’s tip, spreading the drops of moisture that had gathered on his slit.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking helplessly. Feron’s hand slid down to cup his balls and Shepard’s breath caught. “N-not exactly. Not like you.”

Shepard lowered his head and kissed him again, sliding a hand under the drell’s densely-muscled ass and pulling their bodies flush. His captivity had left him thin in a body designed more for bulk than tone, but the planes and ridges still caught the golden light of the ship and sparkled like gems. He chased the colors with his mouth as they starburst under his touch, each one a new and delicious flavor against his tongue. Feron’s moans floated like music on the air, rising in tone when Shepard kissed the impossibly soft strips of bare skin, the proof of his strength and courage.

He hesitated only a moment when he reached the milky, alien length. Its moisture was sweet, earthy, the scent of Feron’s gorgeous scales made into flavor. He licked from the large, heavy balls up the thick shaft to the soft ridge that divided the tip like the seam on a peach and wrapped his lips around the tapered tip. This time, when Feron’s body bowed off of the mattress, his shouts were pleasure rather than pain.

He swallowed him down, his eyes rolling back as the ship fell away, leaving them floating on a bed of blue that swayed with their motions like the sea. Pleasure flowed through him, sparks dancing at the edge of his vision, colors and flavors and sounds mixing and trading places with each other, joining and separating in a dance he vaguely recognized as hallucination.

Using the moisture from Feron’s length and his own wet mouth, he lubricated a finger and slid it between the drell’s asscheeks, circling his entrance with a fingertip before pressing slowly into him, letting the other man’s body control his entry. Feron cried out, his fingers digging into Shepard’s shoulder, and pressed back onto his hand, taking him easily. Finding him more flexible than a human, he added a second finger, working him with hand and mouth as Feron writhed beneath him.

“Goddess of oceans, Shep, fuck…” he groaned, his eyes fully closed and a faint blue corona flickering over his scales, adding the taste of lightning to the air around them.

Shepard swirled his tongue around the smooth tip and with a loud moan, Feron spilled into his mouth. His hands fisted in the sheets, pulling them loose, as Shepard swallowed around him. He waited until the other man had relaxed to slowly withdraw his fingers and slide off of him with a final lick of sweet moisture from his tip.

Feron looked at him, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light, his chest heaving, and tugged him up for a deep kiss that was all teeth and tongue and need. Scaled hands slid over his ass, a slick length gliding between his cheeks, and he groaned at the thought of that heavy dick inside him. The drell’s fused fingers gathered the moisture and pressed gently but inexorably into him. Shepard moaned, sliding his leaking, aching length along Feron’s smooth belly.

He wanted to be in Feron. He wanted Feron inside him. The fused fingers brushed over his prostate, sending bolts of lightning racing under his skin and making his toes curl. His sharp inhale had Feron grinning against his lips and the drell’s fingers stroked it again, circling around it and drawing a strangled moan from him as he wrapped a hand around his base to hold his orgasm back.

“Wait,” he gasped. “Feron, wait. I’ll finish too fast if you do that.”

“So?” Feron murmured, grazing his teeth down his throat, his hand stroking down to meet Shepard’s fingers. His thumb brushed over Shepard’s knuckles. “Finish as many times as you want. I want to see it.”

“Can’t,” he groaned, tipping his head back for him. “Only get one and then have to wait. Want to save it.”

Feron made a sympathetic sound and moved his fingers, testing Shepard’s openness. Satisfied, he withdrew them and Shepard felt a heavy pressure at his entrance.

“Alright?” Feron murmured. 

“Oh, god, yes. Fuck me,” Shepard moaned.

Feron pressed smoothly into him, the tapered tip stretching him almost to his limit for the thick head, slowing when Shepard dropped his forehead onto the drell’s shoulder to focus on remaining relaxed for him. Feron’s hand smoothed over his ass, a soothing rumble vibrating his chest. Shepard bit down on his shoulder, his hips jerking and writhing as Feron pressed in past the tip and the dense shaft slid smoothly into him.

“Oh, fuck, Feron!” he shouted, beyond caring that there were others on the ship who might overhear. He was full, able to feel every curve and dip of that bulbous tip inside him as Feron thrust slowly in him, his own moans joining Shepard’s.

“Arashu, I didn’t think you were going to be able to take me, you were so tight,” Feron panted, “and then you _did_ and now you’re so smooth and hot and silky, fitting me like you were made for me, goddess of oceans, I’d have been doing humans for years if I’d known.”

“Glad I could…introduce you to a new…fet _ish_ ,” Shepard groaned, fighting to get the words out and maintain control over himself.

Moisture drizzled from his tip onto Feron’s colorful belly, pooling in his navel. Feron stroked him in time with the steady roll of his hips. When he circled them, pressing the head of him against his prostate, Shepard saw stars. He wasn’t going to last. He wasn’t going to last long at all.

The sea rolled around them, waves coming faster and harder as his control shattered. His hips rocked back onto his partner, his entrance flexing to hold him deep. Feron shouted a moan, burying himself in Shepard and spurting heat into him. He’d never felt a partner finish in him before, and the sensation had him instantly spilling onto the other man, thick white ropes decorating his gem-like scales.

They collapsed onto the bed together, breathing heavily, with Feron’s arms around him. Shepard rolled partly onto his side to keep from smothering him and groaned as the movement made Feron press deeper into him, moaning as he spilled into him again. Drained, Shepard’s head dropped onto the pillow beside Feron’s. His hand rested lightly on the drell’s chest, feeling his odd three-chambered heartbeat.

Feron tipped his head, looking over at him. “How long till you can go again?” he asked with a grin.

“Gimme thirty minutes,” he said. Feron shifted inside him, drawing Shepard’s knee up over his hip. “Or twenty.”

“I think I can find ways to entertain myself for that long,” Feron said, kissing down his neck and stroking his hands up and down Shepard’s back. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Thank you. For helping me not think.”


End file.
